My Guests

I sat in that room I was born in. I spent formative years with the duality watching over me. They were treacherous; at times affectionate and nurturing; others cold and barbaric. From kisses to strikes across my cheeks, to kicks above my knees. An upbringing riddled with light and darkness; a preparation for their departure and my first guest.

My first guest enters, a nostalgic resurgence of the night we met. A night like every other that yet felt different; little did I know I would meet my first infatuation. We were so similar; we loved and hated with the same intensity. He sits and looks at me, those blue eyes still full of sorrow that reflected the disappointment in me. I couldn’t blame him, even if he too had hurt me. We sit in silence, because neither of us knew how to apologize.

Another week of walking back and forth, back and forth in my loneliness and anguish. Bored. Tired. Everything combined. I was waiting for something but didn’t know what I was waiting for. Repressed appetite, yet craving countless different things.

The second guest follows. He was my first real love. I was far more experienced than him when we met, but he ended breaking my heart nonetheless. He walked away with my heart without saying goodbye. For years, I’d see him randomly, but once a year without fail. He would look into my eyes and I would see a stranger. Maybe he had always been a stranger without my knowledge. I hated him with every fiber of my being. For stealing my heart and refusing to return it entirely after this visit.

I walk back and worth for a few more hours. That room getting darker with the madness winning. The urge to pull out my hair increasing. A gurgling in my stomach. I lay on the floor. I feel an increasingly violent madness. Yet the desire to do nothing too great.

The third guest follows. The moment I had met him, everything felt right. I knew we would spend eternity understanding each other in silence. Loving each other despite not sharing a single kiss. Not one. Instead, we shared a first date; one of seven hours. One night where even though he was thirty minutes late and fed me some incredulous excuse, I still forgot all about his indiscretion as we talked about his upbringing, his sexual duality; his first love with another man, and his last relationship with a woman, one where he grew to hate her. I wondered if that’s what happened between us when he stopped responding to my texts one random night four years later. Not one single response to every birthday wish every year that followed.

Further wailing and walking back and forth, almost walking in complete darkness. A siren starting to drown out my thoughts but bringing me closer to madness as I now wanted to rip out my hair. Skin peeling as I felt my nose and every skin imperfection; my imperfections becoming increasingly visible and violently remindful.

My fourth guest walks in. I hate him as much as I love him. I have nothing but pure hate, and yet I am utterly joyful looking at him both in my dreams and living nightmares. I remember the day we met; something about him drew me to him, even without us saying a word to each other. I remember when we finally said hello, how he turned and looked down at me even though he was only two to three inches taller; the defining barometer for our entire relationship. From every time he joked about my height, to every time he smirked at my helpless flirting or staring, to the times he called me pathetic for loving him; he looked down on me because I was subhuman.

I couldn’t take it anymore; the resounding sound of the voices increasingly louder. The light dimly flickering, the darkness was taking over. I started to bang my head against the walls—I wanted them to go away. God, if only I could get amnesia, not only of the mind, but of the heart.

The fifth guest. I perhaps despised him most. I met him on my thirty-third trip around the sun. It was a fairytale-come-true, to meet one’s soulmate on such a special day. This fairytale soon turned as dark as the dwindling sight of this guest. From forcing barbaric politics that aligned with everyone’s but his or my shared interests; to stuffing me back into the solitude of a repressive safe space; his hiding space for everything low-priority; to hiding me from his world. A world not even he was ready for. Every shared moment reminded me of my worth, which was diminished to zero. He looked at me, blankly. Nothing had changed since his first and last visit.

My jaw hurt now from my clattering teeth to the shaking from arms down to my fists and feet. I couldn’t help but bellow and slam myself onto the floor and lay around in agony. Everything hurt and everything burned. I sounded like a wailing child without tears. Lights flickering above me. I want them out finally and definitively.

The penultimate guest walks in, loudly. He is a loud presence in every way since we first met. From the moment we locked eyes that random weekend night, to bringing him into my bedroom, to him asking my age when he took a look at my toy collectibles; him making me laugh as we laid bare, to him having something to say over other people’s half-finished sentences. Joke or insult, half his words sounded hateful and distrusting, the other half were in good nature. Unlike the guest before him, this one played a more convincing game. Celebrating my every birthday for over a decade. Nonetheless, he could never say the word I wanted to hear from one man’s lips. I didn’t feel it, either; not for him. He was flawed like me in the ugliest of ways. Yet, I starved to hear it from someone, and he fit the bill the longest from the lot. Yet, he adamantly couldn’t. He classified the word to be insincere, worthless, while actions were not. Unfortunately, his actions eventually reflected his inability to say it. I soon was forgot.

Bang, bang, bang. I banged and begged to a God, if there was one and if there wasn’t, I still couldn’t help it. Please take me out of this misery! May I no longer think of these guests that take up every mental faculties I possess, and those they’ve possessed. The pain gravitates from my head, to my forehead; arms; chest; a body begging for rest. Pleading to forever lay in darkness, but not just yet…try to get back on my feet one final time to greet him…

The final guest. The perfect guest. We met in darkness, but he was the light in that room and every room he set foot in; he was the light I had been waiting for my entire life: the rest of the guests were just place-holders. Kind ; wise; talkative; a profound conversationalist; humorous; self-aware; taller, but never stood superior; his eyes wide; his heart wider; his eyes looked into mine and never below. He was perfect, already someone else’s. He taught me so much in so little time. He smiled one final time.

At last completely in darkness. The darkness and I. I felt it whisper into my ear, driving me into irrevocable madness. My hands and all of theirs reached into my heart, ripping everything out of my chest and letting it all fall. Splat. Splat. Splat. They bring me up and down repeatedly; no longer taking consecutive turns; they stand in unison. I feel their arms making their way through my body. They still feel they have full reign over it. Off comes my shirt. Next my pants. My trousers. They fondle me freely yet frigidly. A destructive act aimed at annihilating my remaining emotions. If only one could say that one word as I resign to eternal moaning.

Splat. Splat. Every part of me bare. The pain everywhere. Soon no longer to bear. Complete darkness as their essence dissipates away. My soul no longer following them. No more guests allowed. A toll they can no longer pay.